


Mirrors

by define_serenity



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-13
Updated: 2009-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/define_serenity/pseuds/define_serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighteen months ago, on her first assignment, Elle witnessed Sylar's first real kill--she had the chance to stop him but didn't, a decision that costs her dearly.</p><p>Two months ago Sylar killed her father, Angela kicked her out of The Company, and the one person she still trust, Noah Bennet, partnered up with Sylar.</p><p>One month ago, for the first time since the days she can't remember, she ended up in a cell on Level 5.</p><p>And Sylar hasn't forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set during season 3.

How do you leave the one thing you’ve always known? How do you leave the only place that’s ever given you stability and a roof over your head? And how does one go about _getting another life_ when you don’t even know whether the life you’ve led so far was worthy of the name?

Sure, she had a title (a pretty _pretty_ name tag just like the spies on TV) and work, something to keep her busy, but was she any good at it in the first place?

 _You’re the best,_ her daddy used to say, but deep down she realizes he only said that to keep her going, to make sure she went the distance. Because in the end all she was any good for was bait (all meaty and ripe for the taking).

Bait for Sylar.

 

.

 

“So you’re saying I’m bait?” she asks, and looks at Noah, her confidant, the only one she really trusts with anything involving her job (daddy would only tell her to suck it up). But this? Her father leaving her out high and dry so that Sylar can try and kill her? No, not that, it couldn’t possibly…

“Do you have a better theory?”

_No._

“My father _loves me_ ,” she sneers, and walks away, the trumpet of her boots resounding loudly through the hallway as she passes other cells.

Flint (the one with the pretty blue flames) shouts something inappropriate at her, like always, and she sends a bolt of electricity flying his way, just to startle him into angry silence.

 

.

 

She sits in her hotel room, four by four just like the Level Two cells, but it was enough (and has always been) and all she’d ever needed.

There’s a suitcase under the bed, and an overnight bag on the dresser that could probably hold her entire life, and she doesn’t move. So many times she lay awake at night as a teenager, imagining the outside world with its fresh adventures. And now (when everything has died and she’s all alone) she refuses to even budge.

Her hands are balled into fists.

 _I suppose you’ll have to get yourself another life_.

Elle’s heart sinks just thinking about it. As if her life won’t change enough already with her daddy all dead and cut open.

 

.

 

“Are you even listening to me?” Elle casts down her eyes, her heart sinking and that extremely familiar feeling of letting her father down reaching for the surface in the form of tears.

She hits her fist on his desk and chooses determination, “You know, you are so sure that I’m gonna disappoint you, but when I prove you wrong...”

Her heart stops beating.

There’s blood, and she can see right into her dad’s head, cut open and deprived from its essentials.

 

. 

 

She looks up at her father, reduced to an urn on the nightstand without any question, and she wonders how much room was spared without her dad’s brain in there. A tears runs down her cheek and she wipes it away, feeling like she’s already cried enough for the past few days. None of it had mattered. None of the work she did for the Company, none of the people she had saved (even if it had just been silly Mohinder and baby girl Molly), not even the fact that she was the one that knocked out Sylar.

Though she admits that last part kind of backfired on her.

The wound on her forehead stings and she flinches when she touches it, wondering if it will leave a scar. It probably will, the cut was deep (all the way down through her skull and digging into brain matter that got toasted long ago, though she’s not supposed to remember that) and ugly and she pouts just for herself. Self-pity has always worked fine for her, mostly because she had no-one around to pity her instead.

 

.

.

.

 

**(Present day)**

They are two bodies in one room, an open space, desire and passion hanging in invisible folds between them. The air is thick with ozone when their lips part with a gasp, and the sound of doors opening reach both their  ears. Both of them take deep breaths as they stare into each other’s eyes, suppressing the cravings that are crawling impatiently beneath the surface of their skin.

“Go,” the sound of her voice is a breath on his cheek, and then he’s leaving, the soft brush of her hand against his chest still lingering like a fingerprint on glass.

Then the sound of automatic doors closing, and they both know it will be days before they can steal another moment.

 

 

 

**\- tbc -**

 


	2. Chapter 2

**(Two months ago)**

Fine. Another life it is. If that’s what they want her to do than she can at least make the best of it. There’s no more Company (though there’s really always a Company) and yes, it’s frightening as hell and without a job (or daddy to hold her hand) what’s the meaning of it all?

She sleeps in a new room, a hotel room, much bigger than she’s used to and when she lies down in her king-size bed, she only sleeps on the one side. She’s sure the phrase _less is more_ was invented somewhere in a situation like this. Why a king-size bed when all she needs is half?

Most nights she goes through dreamless states of light sleep, (her subconscious really doesn’t have anything to throw at her anymore), but some nights (they’re few in number but hurt the most) she wakes up screaming for daddy. And not a single person cares. So she sits there and peers into the darkness, all sweat-drenched, alone and unloved, chest heaving when she notices the sheets are on fire. She leaps out of the bed and looks around the room (as if someone could spring from the walls any minute now) but realises no-one will come for her, not ever, not anymore.

Elle knows exactly what her nightmares are about, all dark and devious and filled with pain from when Sylar killed her daddy and tried to kill her. Hallways with big numbers and the metal drop of bullets hitting concrete haunt her in those few nights. And then there’s that accusation (of _maybe even more so_ ) that makes her curl into the sheets because she knows it to be true.

It was an assignment just like any other but what she saw him do has influenced both their lives forever.

 

.

 

**(18 months ago)**

“An assignment?” Elle’s eyes go wide and she continues to stare at her daddy with eyes just as big. “Just for me?” She gets up from the sofa slowly when her father extends his hand, handing over a shiny red file just for her eyes (or so she likes to think).

“Just surveillance, nothing more.” Bob looks at her over the rims of his glasses.

Elle nods enthusiastically and opens the file. _Andrew Hanes_ , 35, Queens. _Plumber by profession_. Possible evolved human. _More observation needed_.

“Do we have any idea what his ability is?” She keeps staring at the pages in front of her, not bothering reading through them properly, because she’s must too excited to be attentive to the tiny letters right now. Plus, the prospect of getting out of this place and go to New York (all by herself in the Big Apple) makes her heart leap up in anticipation. This is going to be _so much fun_.

“That’s for you to find out. Remember your training, and you’ll be fine.” Bob gets up from behind his desk, rounds it and when he reaches his daughter he places both hands on her shoulders, staring down into her big blue eyes. “Make me proud, Elle.”

“I won’t let you down, daddy.” She smiles broadly, and hugs her father right before leaving the room. She had packing to do.

Bob stands and stares at the door that closes behind his daughter for a long time, wondering if he made the right choice. But she had to learn some time, and keeping her around is getting more difficult each day. If she proves herself, if she shows the world just what she can do, then there can be no objections.

 

.

 

It haunts Sylar all the same, the image fresh in his memory (of blue sparks and a fearful hesitation). He hears people say that there’s nothing like the thrill of a first. Thrill (the bitter taste of adrenaline in his mouth) but also guilt (no tears though, never tears) that eats and eats away at him, only making sure the hunger rages and never relents. Maybe he really is nothing but a killer.

_No it’s not your fault. It’s your ability._

Hunger. Now it suddenly has a name, and it becomes a redefinition of everything he has done so far. Suddenly there’s no more evolutionary imperative, or any nature that kills by the steps it takes towards the future, or even any innocent victims. People that got in his way stood between him and his hunger incarnate, that inherent part of him that searches for satisfaction, for power to still this broken thing inside of him.

_There’s a hunger that you can’t control, it’s made you that way._

_But we’re going to fix that._

Elle was the first one though; the first to really see, the first who had the chance to realize. Why didn’t she say anything before it became too late for him?

She and Eden deserved to die for what they refused to admit, for what they failed to realize in time.

 

.

 

“Look what your daddy used to be able to do,” he loomed over her with great ease, his powers coarsing through his body like newfound treasures. And he’s hungry for more.

“You killed him?”

It’s more of a statement than an actual question, because he knows she’s the one who found him. Elle saw her daddy all sliced and diced and without a brain, and it gives him more satisfaction than he cares to admit.

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Elle."

He goes over his victims one by one. But he starts at the first, his first kill as Sylar, his very first bloody mess.

“You’re as much to blame for that as anyone. Maybe even more so."

Her breathing deepens as he says the words, probably because she knows his words hold more truth than anything.

 

.

 

Sylar accuses her of everything and nothing, because who is to say it’s really her fault? It’s easier to blame her, she had the chance to stop him but didn’t take it, and for that she deserves to die; or at least still his hunger for a while. How ironic that she was the one he couldn’t kill. Yet.

An accusation and then the infamous Sylar finger, a cut across her forehead that’s deeper than just a flesh wound (he digs right into her already messed up brain).

Memories of electrics and rainbows scare the hell out of her so she uses the only thing she trusts more than her (now dead) daddy. Electricity.

She wakes up screaming for her daddy, the room charcoal black, singed to a crisp.

 

.

 

**(One month ago)**

“You want her?” Angela is her calm self when she asks the question. Her hands are clamped together in front of her and her hair is tied back in a elegant knot.

Elle’s heart literally skips a beat when mother matriarch offers her to Sylar on a silver platter (sugarcoated and all) and she stares back through the glass barrier in bewilderment. She was bait and now she’s food to satisfy the hunger she more than understands herself. He won’t be able to say no.

Sylar returns the look, eyes much darker and when he looks back at Elle, all alone in her cell, his breathing deepens. He feels the hunger spreading like a white-hot blizzard in his brain, tiny pinpricks right below his fingertips. His mother’s question is left unanswered, only another look as Angela moves back to let him pass. His heart starts beating faster and he can feel it, that _want_ for knowledge, hungry for power. So hungry.

Angela just stands for a while and watches her son move into Elle’s cell, but as the door closes behind him with a thump, she decides to walk away. There’s no need for her to see this.

“Wait NO!” Elle shouts behind her, her fists hitting the glass, making echoes through the empty hallway, “ANGELA! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”

 

 

**\- tbc -**

 


	3. Chapter 3

**(One month ago)**

_The room is on fire (but you’re invisible) and you move through it without getting burned (though the flames lick your skin like water) and you feel the fire peeling at you with its hot claws. You heal though, you always heal, your skin in the same pristine state it was before._

_You know you’ve had this dream before (I walked through fire and I didn’t get burned) but somehow it’s different, more intangible, illusive in a way. And more threatening._

_She turns around in a sea of flames, hot charcoal ashes rising underneath her feet, and then she stares right into a mirror. But it’s wrong, it’s all distorted and shattered and the person in the mirror isn’t her. It’s Elle. But she knows that if she keeps following the path she’s on she might as well be Elle and the mirror would be right. The mirror only shows one side, but it tells her enough. And then the room starts shaking._

“Claire!”

Her brother’s voice reaches her and she can feel his hand on her shoulder, shaking her.

“Claire wake up! You’re dreaming." He insists and when Claire turns around, her head still hazy from sleeping so deep she almost hits him in the face. “Geesh sis, get a grip, it was only a nightmare." Lyle makes a funny face and moves out of the room. “And get up will ya, mom’s making breakfast.”

She gets dressed and heads downstairs, where everyone is already at the breakfast table, and the room goes quiet when she makes her way down the stairs. Claire ignores everyone and moves into the kitchen, ready to grab her breakfast, but then she notices the light at her dad’s desk is on; she can only barely make it out through the doors but she’s almost sure that someone’s there.

“Dad?” she whispers, but everyone hears it. Claire moves inside the office quickly, only to find a blonde sitting in her father’s chair, “Elle?” Claire frowns, “What are you doing here?”

Elle turns the chair around and stares up at Claire, mouth dry even though she had tried to rehearse this conversation for days. “I’m not here to hurt you." She gets up and puts out a hand to Claire, to reassure her that she wasn’t there for anything else. “I need your help.”

“My help?” Claire huffs and stares at Elle in disbelief. “You didn’t need my help killing my dad."

Elle rolls her eyes. “Your dad’s fine.”

“No thanks to you.” Claire takes a few steps closer.

“Back off.” Elle claws her hand and makes sure Claire knows that she’s not afraid to use her abilities. It might not kill her, but Elle can imagine it will sting like a bitch.

Claire laughs and purses her lips, and then her eyes turn darker. “You’re no better than any of them,” she says, jaw clenched tight, “You belong down there in Level 5 just like everyone else.”

“Watch it, blondie,” Elle hates the mere implication that she’s like those monsters, because it’s the one thing she has never admitted to herself. She knows her father had always protected her, kept her from being locked up down there like the rest of them, but she had proven herself. “You forget who you’re talking too."

A blue strand of electricity dances in the palm of her hand, but she hesitates too long. Claire shoots forward and grabs a handful of Elle’s hair, viciously pulling her into the kitchen area so that everyone can see.

“Ahh let go!” Elle shouts.

“You think you can just come in here and act like nothing happened?” Claire’s voice is strong and her grip doesn’t relent. “You took my dad away from me. You let Sylar into this house!”

She looks at Elle and Elle looks back, a war raging inside both of them but for different reasons.

“You can’t die!” Elle tries to fight Claire off, her anger rising in her chest like a tidal wave, her heart beating manically. She pushes Claire off and unleashes her ability, hitting Claire in the shoulder once. Claire falls to the floor and Elle wants to leave it at that, but then something strange happens. Her power changes, it suddenly shoots from both hands and from all over her body. Glass shatters around her. 

“Elle, stop it!” Claire shouts, but her vision almost goes white and she doesn’t even know which way is up and which way is down. Her throat hurts from shouting, but she can’t stop, electricity just keeps pouring out and she can’t control it. Just the way she couldn’t control it when Sylar tried to kill her.

And yet, this feeling's familiar in ways it shouldn't be, embedded in memories she hasn't been able to tap into for years.

“I can’t!” Elle manages to choke out.

“Lyle, don’t!” Sandra Bennet shouts somewhere, and when Elle turns around, she can only  just make out Lyle, and him throwing a bucket of water all over her. She screams again, so loud and so high everyone in the room winces, shocks spreading throughout her body, inward instead of the other way around. But it forces her to calm down, to stop the hurt to her body. She shuts her eyes and balls her fists, her legs giving out from under her, and by the time she hits the floor she’s in control again.

Everyone in the room is staring at her now, a pathetic heap in the corner of the room, cradling her head in her hands. “I really need your help,” Elle says after long moments of deep breathing, but she gets no reply. She looks back up, and the entire family is staring at her, worry colouring their faces.

“P-please?” Elle begs and tears sound through in her voice, “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I thought if I could get your dad to help me…”

“Why my dad?” Claire asks.

“Because he knows what they did to me,” she finally says it out loud, after years and years of necessary denial. With her dad gone, it really didn’t matter anymore. “What experiments they did. I need to control my ability again.”

“Then why not just ask your own father?” Sandra jumps in.

“Because he’s dead." She looks at Mrs. Bennet and wonders if her own mother would have given her that look if she had known about all of it. “Sylar killed him.”

All of a sudden she has Claire’s attention too.

“My dad’s not here," Claire says. "He’s gone back to the Company. With Sylar as his partner."

 

.

 

**(Present day)**

“Noah?” Elle breathes, fear washing over her when she sees that he’s pointing his gun right at her. What is going on? How did they get to this point? “What are you doing?” 

“I’m sorry, Elle.”

Noah closes the distance between them, the Haitian following in his footsteps so she has no chance of using her ability. The Haitian reaches in his pockets and pulls out a pair of handcuffs, tying her hands firmly at her back. Her face reads nothing but confusion.

“I really wish I didn’t have to do this.”

 

 

**\- tbc -**

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sylar has just finished suiting up when he’s on his way to his mother’s office; Angela Petrelli told him he was going out in the field again, but by the sound of the voices from inside Noah wasn’t going to have it this time.

“Where are we going?” Sylar sprints to catch up with Noah when the man storms out of the door, fast-paced and clearly ticked off.

“You’re not coming with me,” Noah sounds firm, as always, making his way through the corridors and out into the yard to get his car. “Not on this one."

“Why?” he asks. “Who are you bringing in?”

Noah halts in his tracks and sighs, turning around reluctantly, “Elle Bishop,” he answers, and puts a taser in the gun holster on his belt.

“Elle?” Sylar frowns, and the image of the blonde girl lying on the floor in front of him flashes before his eyes. She stopped him; he couldn’t kill her. And yet, if he had killed her he wouldn’t be here right now. “I thought she was one of us.”

" _You’re_ not one of us.” Noah takes a step closer to Sylar, his tone menacing.

“Yeah, whatever.” Sylar raises an eyebrow and waves away his _partner’s_ comment. “What did she do?” 

“She decided to show up on my doorstep and threaten my family.” Noah turns around and walks to the car, already opening the car door when he looks up again, squinting against the sunlight. “How do you know Elle Bishop?” Noah can’t remember reading any confrontation between them in any of the files.

“We’ve met before,” is all Sylar answers, but the look in his eyes makes it clear to Noah that something definitely happened between them.

“You mean before you killed her father?” Noah taunts.

Sylar’s eyes darken and he can’t find it in himself to say anything anymore. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“You listen to me, you bastard.” Noah slams the car door shut again and takes a few calculated steps towards Sylar. “You are not taking a single step into that house ever again. Do you understand?” he stares at Sylar hard from behind his glasses. All Sylar does is stare back, just as hard and unrelenting.

“I won’t be long.” Noah turns around again, and this time he does get into the car. “Make sure there’s a cell ready for when I get back.”

They’re going to put her in a cell? Sylar considers his whole situation as he stares after Noah’s car; Elle Bishop behind glass and him out with a partner. How very strange.

“I see you couldn’t persuade him to take you along,” Angela Petrelli’s voice sounds from behind him, and then her hand is on his shoulder, forcing him to look down at her. She smiles, and looks at him with a face filled with love, just like he had always imagined a mother should look at her son.

He grants her a small smile, and then looks back up again. “Why are we locking up Elle Bishop?” he asks, and can’t imagine Elle doing anything as radical as threatening Bennet’s family. Unless she wants something really badly, or had a sudden death wish.

“She’s dangerous, Gabriel,” Angela answers. He frowns, because that’s a trait everyone has always attributed him with. “She’s lost control of her ability. We can’t have her running around like that.”

“So you’re going to help her?” 

“We’re going to keep her safe,” Angela Petrelli sighs, and turns around. She knows what her son is thinking and feeling, because she’s seen it all before in herself once. But compassion never got her anywhere. “If you feel like helping her, knock yourself out, I’m not going to waste any time on a lost cause,” she adds, and starts to walk away.

“She only is what this Company made her into.”

Sylar doesn’t move an inch as he speaks the words, only half hoping that his words were loud enough for his mother to hear them.

“Excuse me?” Angela halts slowly and turns her head.

But he doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t tell his mother that Elle is exactly what they made of her. He never could have guessed that by taking Bob out of the equation he would make Elle a lost cause, just like the Company had always regarded him to be before Angela Petrelli stepped in.

Elle is not dangerous because of her ability; she is dangerous despite of it.

 

.

 

“Elle let’s not make this any harder than it already is,” Noah stands in his own living room but feels a stranger there nonetheless. He knows Claire is still disappointed in him, but he has to focus; he’s there to do his job.

“Is it true, Noah?” Elle stands at the other end of the room, all alone once again but for the first time it fully sinks in, “Are you working with that… monster?”

“It wasn’t my decision,” Noah explains, placing a hand on the taser in his pants pocket when he sees Elle clawing her hands. He knows what’s coming next. “But yes, Sylar is my partner for the time being.”

“Why would Mrs. Petrelli do that? It doesn’t make any sense.” Elle feels hurt, and cornered, and just like any other wounded animal she only has one thing left to do; she goes on the offence. “She fires me but partners you put with that… son of bitch?”

Blue sparks dance in her hands, incontrollable because her anger gets the best of her.

“Elle, don’t,” Noah warns her, and he might have just succeeded in calming her down, until she sees the taser in his hand and Elle realizes why he's there. He doesn’t hesitate when he sees Elle moving forward, and the electrics knock her out right away.

“You’re just going to take her and lock her up?” Claire stands behind her father as Noah looms over Elle’s unconscious body, “Dad, Sylar killed her father. He’s the one who should be locked up.”

She knows she’s tried this tactic before, but it can’t hurt to keep repeating it.

“Claire look at me.” Noah leans in and places his hands on Claire’s shoulders. “Right now Elle is a danger to herself and all the people around her. We’ll get her better and then we’ll see.”

“Where have I heard that before.” Claire averts her eyes.

“Claire...”

“No, dad. I’ve had it.” Claire brushes off her father’s arms and takes a few steps back. “When you’re out there with Sylar or helping Elle you’re not here,” her voice sounds strong, because she knows she’s right. “You say you’re protecting this family but where were you when Elle walked in here?”

The conversation ends right there, because everyone in the room knows Claire is right and Noah doesn’t know what else to say in order to make his daughter see the bigger picture. Maybe there is no bigger picture, and he really is deluding himself when he says everything he does is for his family.

Fact is that these villains are out there, and he doesn’t trust Sylar to take care of them.

 

.

 

**(18 months ago)**

“Yeah, daddy,” she assures her father on the phone, “Everything is under control. It’s not hard to follow a guy with a 9 to 5 job,” she explains, and slurps her slusho while her dad explains that Andrew Hanes can still be dangerous, even if he doesn’t appear to be.

“I… I’ll be careful, daddy.”

Elle sits up in her seat when she sees something out of place.

“Dad, I have to go okay? I’ll call you tonight.”

She puts her phone down before her father has the chance to answer and squints to peer at the other side of the street. There’s a man standing at the corner, and she can swear that she’s seen him around Andrew Hanes before. He has a baseball cap pulled over his head, making it pretty much impossible for her to see his face.

“Who are you?” she says as she grabs her camera phone to take a picture of the stranger, but then he’s walking, and enters the same building her target was fixing the plumbing. _Damn._  


 

 

**\- tbc -**

 


	5. Chapter 5

** (18 months ago) **

She gets out of the car quickly, the taps of her heels on the concrete paving following each other fast as she makes her way into the building. The fuses inside short-circuit, casting everything in a dark glow, and for once she knows it’s not her doing. Her heartbeat rises at the thought that she lost her assignment. Who was that other man that was following Andrew Hanes? 

For a moment she had considered it was another agent the Company had sent, to check up on her, but she shook that thought when she saw him entering the building right after her plumber did.

 

.

 

** (One month ago) **

Elle has never been so scared in her entire life when she sees Angela walking away. She’s always known that Mrs. Petrelli isn’t fond of her but this? Feeding her to Sylar? 

“Wait NO!” Elle shouts after Angela, more begging shining through than she intended, her fists hitting the glass hard. “ANGELA!! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” 

She hears the door open and then his footsteps on the floor, but he stops. Elle is still standing against the glass wall, her breathing becoming  laboured and tears rushing into her eyes.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Sylar voice sounds from behind her, and she realizes he’s moved to the other side of the room, far out of reach of her ability.

“Stop you?” 

Elle turns around carefully and looks at him, only to find him staring right at her. 

He’s squinting, like she’s seen him do on more than one occasion, like he’s trying to work out what she’s thinking just by studying her cranium. Last time he did that was the first time they met.

Eighteen months ago.

 

.

 

The emergency lighting lets her find the way through the dark hallways and she tries to keep still, walking slowly. Until there’s a scream, a man’s voice shrieking through the darkness, and she’s running, running so fast, the carpet flooring silencing her footsteps. She halts in her tracks and freezes on the spot when she finds a trail of blood leading into another room. Her breathing deepens and quickens at the same time as she rounds the corner, and sees a scene no-one could have made up. 

Andrew Hanes lying dead and sprawled at the other side of the hallway.

“What are you…” she breathes but it’s not even audible. 

The man in the dark clothes looks up slowly, suspiciously, his face barely discernable in the dark, but his eyes... his dark eyes. 

She stares at him, wide-eyed, her whole body trembling. There is so much blood on the floor but hardly a drop on him, how did he manage that? But all he does is bend his head back down; he must not have seen her.

 

.

 

“When you saw me kill that man.” 

He casts down his eyes for a split second, Andrew Hanes’ dead body a vivid memory no matter what power he has acquired in the mean time. “You were right there and you saw what I did. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I…”

The memory flashes before her eyes as well, one part of her memory that has never failed her. A dead body and so much blood, but nothing on him, and no sparks dancing in her hands.

“I tried." She shakes with fear as tears escape her eyes, sorrow from so many memories washing over her.

 

.

 

_ Use your ability _ her mind screams at her when the dark stranger removes Andrew Hanes’ skull, but nothing happens. His eyes, they were so… human. 

She finds support against a wall and she gags, but the noises from outside make sure the sound is lost in the night. Tears rush into her eyes and she feels it’s getting harder to breathe.

 

.

 

That’s when he sees, the tears in her eyes, the same confusion he saw that day when they first met, equal to his own. It’s fear and hesitation, and understanding. She knew what he was capable of, and she still knows now. 

“You understood, didn’t you?” he says, and moves closer, her heart leaping up in fear. “You saw what I could become but decided not to do anything. Why?” 

Thoughts are racing through her head but she has no idea what to think, not anymore, not after everything that has happened.

“Did you see, Elle?” 

He’s only a few feet away now. 

“Did you see the monster I would become? Did you know that I could become this dangerous?” 

His hand freezes over as he raises it, Andrew Hanes’ power displayed in front of her, reminding her of her failure. 

“Or did you see your own reflection when you looked into my eyes?”

Her breath hitches in her throat and she manages to slowly look up into his eyes. “I am nothing like you,” she chokes out, but she doesn’t believe her own words.

“But you are, baby girl.” He leans in and she faces away from him, feeling his breath caress her cheek and then her neck. “I think you’re exactly like me and that’s what scared you off."

He tries to look in her eyes but she closes them. He’s right, she knows he’s right but she won’t admit to any of it. 

“You saw your potential staring back at you, and you knew it was only a matter of time.” 

His fingertip grazes her neck, and she shivers, but the touch doesn’t last long.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance," she says; her eyes open again but she still can’t bring herself to look at him. He’s too close.

 

.

 

He’s digging into a man’s brain matter and all she can do is stand there and watch. And when he finishes and walks over to her side of the hallway, by this time she has slumped down on the floor, unable to move, he first startles as he lays eyes on her. His eyes are suddenly brighter and she stares up at them in fear, words forming on her lips but she can’t utter them.

He kneels down in front of her and it’s almost as if he’s as confused as her. 

“You saw…” he stammers, looking back and forth between her and the dead body. “I didn’t mean to…” his words are lost to him as well as he gets up again, hands bloody by his sides, and then, it’s only a fleeting second because her hearing pretty much goes next, she thinks she hears him pray.

 

.

 

“Maybe, yes,” he admits, and the admission confuses her. Does he want to die? “But here we are, mirror images once again. And what a role reversal we’ve been through."

He waits a few moments for everything to sink in, but then he moves back, away from her, and she releases a breath when she realizes he’s standing by the door.

“Wait, aren’t you gonna kill me?” she asks confused.

“Maybe I should now that I have the chance," he says, tilting his head as he purses his lips. “But I won’t,” -there’s a squint again-, “You’re special, Elle, and you don’t even know it.”

Another kind of fear grabs hold of her next, one that has to do with the words he just spoke. She knows what he means all too well, it’s been said many times over but it still gets her blood rushing. “Why… why did you kill my dad?” she asks carefully, because she has to know, she needs to know just to know anything.

“Why did you kill that man in Ireland?” Sylar stares at her from beneath his brow. “You knew he was lying to you, but instead of torturing the answers out of him, you plain killed him. And you knew your dad wouldn’t like it." 

He doesn’t care that her confusion only grows at his words; he needs to tell her this. “Why did you set your grandmother’s house on fire when you were six? Was it just curiosity or something more?” 

Again he moves closer and Elle regrets her question. “Why did you enjoy electrocuting Peter and Adam when they were prisoners here? Because of the control it gave you? The power? I don’t think so.”

“How did you…” She frowns, but the words hitch in her throat. Her current situation plays on repeat in her mind and she suddenly realizes this might not be the first time Angela let Sylar have his way with one of the prisoners. “Bridget,” she breathes, almost inaudibly, her eyes going wide as realization washes over her.

“You’re broken, Elle,” his hand brushes her cheek gently, and this time she doesn’t shiver. “And it has nothing to do with your ability." 

She can tell he’s digging his way into her mind, her memories, even the ones she doesn’t know she has.

“Shut up,” she sneers between clenched teeth, fighting her sorrow, and her ability too.

“Your father put you through experiment after experiment.” He digs deeper and deeper until she can almost see for herself. “He just kept going and going and he broke you.”

Electricity sparks in her hands. "Shut up!" she shouts, "Shut up!"

“WHY didn’t you stop ME?!” 

Sylar slams his fists against the glass behind her and it startles her so much that she regains control of her ability almost immediately.

“Because I couldn't!” She falls to her knees and slumps down on the floor. “I was afraid! It was all too familiar." 

She can smell the blood now, and see his face clear as day. “If I had stopped you, that would’ve meant someone had to stop me.”

“Because you’re just like me,” Sylar concludes.

He backs off, and leaves the room, gravity taking hold of their conversation as it sinks in.

 

_. _

 

** (18 months ago) **

“Elle?” Noah asks her the moment she walks in. There is shock spread all across her face, terror and she’s on the brink of tears. “What happened?” 

Elle looks up ever so slowly, careful, as if she thinks that her words will chase Noah away. “I…” she hesitates, and a tear rolls over her cheek, “I have something to tell you.”

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Elle sits in her cell, on the concrete elevation in the center of the room, probably the least comfortable bed in the history of beds, and she suddenly wishes (that’ll teach her not to complain in the first place) she had her much-to-big king-sized bed back at her disposal. It’s too quiet here, and she doesn’t like it; silence is always unsettling in a place such as this. 

“Ouch!” She winces when the nurse pulls off the band aid on her forehead. 

Sylar is standing outside, staring at her from behind the glass, maybe to admire his own handiwork.

“It’s healing up nicely,” the nurse’s voice is soft, but careful as well. Just like any other employee she knows what Sylar and Elle are capable of, and him watching Elle’s every move sets everyone in the building on edge. His fascination for her has everyone guessing.

“Yeah,” Elle answers, and glances over at Sylar as the nurse applies another band aid to her head, after disinfecting the wound. He stares at her but doesn’t say a word, his hands resting in his pockets. Elle looks away again nervously, feeling scrutinized and naked whenever she’s subjected to his look. She looks at him the same way, but it doesn’t unsettle him to know she can look right through him, that she understands him. 

Sylar leaves when he sees Angela approaching, who only comes down here to check up on Peter.

“I see you’re still alive.” Angela raises an eyebrow, but passes her cell, completely uninterested.

“So it would seem.” Elle leans back on her arms as Angela passes, and the nurse finishes up her work, the door locking behind her and Elle’s all alone again. She has too much time to think down here; that’s what she figures her unease with it all is. Too much time to think about Sylar’s words, and her past with him. In the distance, between a thought of her father and of Sylar’s fingers brushing her cheek, she hears Angela mumbling soothing words to Peter.

Elle sighs and gets up, her naked feet barely making sounds on the concrete floor. She thinks about (out of reluctance to think about anything else) how grey really isn’t her  colour , and that the top and matching slacks could really use some updating. Somewhere between giving herself fashion advice and Angela closing Peter’s cell back up, she grabs Noah’s red ball (he thought it would help her pass the time) and starts bouncing it off the wall, like he once had. She finally sees the appeal.

“Did you know this would happen?” Elle asks as Angela passes her cell again, but keeps her focus on the little trinket bouncing back and forth between her and the glass barrier, “You dream the future right?” she continues and Angela stops in her tracks, “Tell me, did you know Sylar wouldn’t kill me?”

“Frankly dear, I couldn’t care less.” Angela looks around uninterested, like she’s in a hurry to get somewhere. “I don’t know what my son sees in you, but I reckon it’s only a matter of time before he does kill you."

Wait, what? Sylar’s yet another Petrelli? Is everyone connected to this Company related these days? 

“Son?” She misses the ball with her hand, and it bounces of the bed, before rolling to the other side of the room.

“Yes. Gabriel is my son.” Angela looks at Elle strongly, making clear that there is no mistake.

“Gabriel,” Elle purses her lips as she plays with the word, walking towards her bed again, and sits down. “That almost makes him sound… good.”

“He’s getting better,  _Elle_ ,” Angela spits back, “It’s his ability, it changed him into this. It’s not his fault.”

Elle swallows and takes a minute to let it sink in. Sylar a monster because of his ability, but a chance to redeem himself by working for the Company. Elle a monster because of working for the Company, and… no chance to redeem herself because apparently she’s a lost cause now. 

“Forgive my bluntness, your highness,” Elle bites back, because she really doesn’t have anything better to do, “But I don’t see how feeding him prisoners will help him get better. You gave him Bridget? She was the most harmless one of them all.”

Angela’s eye twitches slightly, but it’s gone in an instant, “You’re right, Elle, I have seen the future. You can’t understand the variables. Gabriel has a very important role to play.”

“And what about me?” Elle shoots up towards the glass, sick and tired of constantly hearing of what a saint Sylar has become. “I’m just damaged goods? An experiment gone wrong? You can’t treat people like this!” 

She slams the palms of her hands against the glass, static electricity trickling along the edges.

Angela stands, a tiny smile playing over her features. “Look around you, Elle. You’ve been treating people just the same. But I suppose it’s all different now that the tables have turned. Are we supposed to treat you differently because of who your father was?” She looks down at Elle, who is bristling with anger, but tears form in her eyes at the mention of her father. Her father who might not have loved her, but he protected her.

“I expect to be given the benefit of the doubt,” Elle says between clenched teeth. And then she sighs as she moves away, turning her back on Angela. “Ironically your _son_ seems to be the only one willing to grant me that.” She walks to the other side of the room, and snatches the red trinket for the ground.

“Why is that exactly?” Angela squints, apparently something she passed over to her son.

“Nothing you’ll ever find in any of your files.” Elle keeps her back turned to Angela, and sits down on her bed again. “Or nothing you will ever see in your dreams.”

“I think I know my son, Elle,” Angela tips her head and motions to walk away, but Elle swears she hesitates for just a moment.

“I think I know him better,” Elle concludes, and throws the ball against the wall in front of her, watching it go up in the air, and catching it in her hand. “He’s not going to kill me.”

When Angela finally does turn around and leave, her stride is a lot less confident than before. Elle might be a lot of things, but she's not lying about this.

 

.

 

** 18 months ago **

** The Company, office of Arthur Petrelli **

 

“What did you do?” Angela Petrelli storms into the room, fast-paced and a manic beating in her heart. When she had heard the news she’d known immediately. Sylar,  _Gabriel_ , her son.

“I did what needed to be done.” Arthur doesn’t look up from the file sprawled out on his desk. Angela might become heartless in years to come, but she had the best teacher there was.

“He’s your son!” Angela shouts, and her breathing deepens, anger for her husband’s apathy and fear for her son’s life.

“Yes, Angela. You’re right.” He gets up slowly from behind his desk, and Angela freezes in place. Arthur Petrelli slowly rounds his desk, and comes to a standstill in front of his wife, “My son. And you kept his power hidden from me.”

“And that will cost him his life? Arthur, please.” She moves closer and places the palms of her hands on her husband’s chest. “All my dreams, they predicted nothing but darkness for him. I couldn’t…”

“He’s dangerous, Angie.” Arthur’s hand covers one of hers now, and again she freezes, but now not out of fear. He is using her ability on her. Angela knows her son can be dangerous, that’s exactly what she was protecting him from. But this…

“What are you…” Angela’s eyes go wide in fear, and she suddenly finds herself unable to speak.

“What else are you hiding from me, Angela?” He squeezes her hand and stares at her hard, digging into her mind.

“Please…” Angela manages to choke out, but she already feels her resolve faltering. She shuts her eyes to try and fight it with her last ounce of power, but her mouth opens and she feels words forming, words she had been keeping down for years. “It’s Nathan! He’s manifested,” she blurts out, and then finally catches her breath, slumping down on the floor, grabbing for her heart.

“The formula works?” Arthur stares down at his wife, and then smirks. “You shouldn’t have kept this from me, Angela.”

“It’s too dangerous, Arthur.” Angela sits back and stares up at him. “We’re not God. We should have destroyed the formula a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, Angela. I really wish we could’ve avoided this.” Arthur motions to walk away, and Angela quickly scrambles to her feet.

“You can’t do this! Arthur!” Angela shouts after her husband, but he doesn’t back down. What she does next is triggered by motherly instinct and fear for the formula being used again. 

She grabs a nearby paper weight from a shelf, and hits her husband on the head with it.

It’s only years later, when friends once trusted have turned out enemies, that Angela Petrelli realizes that asking Maury Parkman for help to cover it up was the biggest mistake she ever could have made.

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Come with me," Sylar says.

He opens her cell door, and Elle’s eyes open wide when she sees that he’s dressed in the same grey outfit she is; Angela must not like him wandering around the building.

“What for?” Elle frowns, and stays in place on her side of the room, Sylar’s presence still unsettling at times, especially when he looks at her like that--like he’s peeling off her clothes with his eyes.

“We’re going to get you better.” 

There's a sincerity in his look that she has never seen before. He looks different too, with his hair slicked back like that; he looks more in control. Maybe this place really is changing him, or Angela. 

“I put up a room upstairs." He points up, though she knows which room he means. 

Still she hesitates. 

“I’m not going to bite.” He raises an eyebrow as a small smile spreads on his lips, and Elle can’t help but mirror the emotion.

It takes her another few moments to move outside of her cell, pushing past Sylar in the doorway, her shoulder grazing his chest as she moves through. Her breathing goes up again, like it’s been doing a lot when Sylar’s around. 

“Tell me,” she says nervously, Sylar following in her footsteps. “What is Peter down here for?”

Sylar halts in his tracks, and it makes her stop too. 

She turns around and looks up at him, seeing him stare back at Peter’s cell, almost as if he’s ashamed of something. 

“He took my ability.”

“You let him…” Elle’s eyes go wide in shock.

“He went to the future,” Sylar explains, and looks at her strongly, pressing the issue that he wasn’t the one to give Peter his ability. “And for some reason I gave him my ability. He’s got the hunger now, and he doesn’t know how to fight it.”

“And mommy dearest asked you to help him?” Elle asks.

“You think she’s manipulating me?” Sylar’s eyes widen as he studies Elle’s expression. He knows his mother is not popular, but this is the second person that implied something like this. “Noah told me that…”

Elle let out a laugh, feeling free to do so. “Noah Bennet is not your biggest fan." She spins on her heels and proceeds down the hall. 

When seeing Sylar’s questioning look, she adds, “He might be manipulating you too. Where do you think he learned his tricks?” 

She wants to add that she learned the same tricks from Noah herself, but she doesn’t.

“And my mother?” Sylar asks.

“I’m not questioning her being your mother.” Elle presses the elevator button, forgetting all about the fact that she’s supposed to be a prisoner. “I’m saying she’s Angela Petrelli, and she can dream the future." 

There’s a short silence as they move into the elevator. 

“Is it true that Peter almost killed her?” her voice breaks the silence, and Sylar is again putting a questioning look in his eyes. How can a girl that’s been locked up down here for only two weeks already know so much? 

“Flint might not make for a great conversationalist,” Elle explains, “but I got it out of him.”

“It’s true.” Sylar looks away from her, her smile disarming him, “He tried to kill her. It’s because of my ability. He doesn’t understand it.” Sylar frowns, only to himself. “I don’t even fully understand it. But he hasn’t lived with it this long, he’s…"

“Lost,” Elle interrupts him, and now they are both just staring at their own reflections in the elevator doors, not yet realizing they just reached an understanding that will get them very far in the future.

“Yes, lost,” Sylar repeats.

The rest of their walk proceeds in silence, something settling between them neither can really explain, but it’s there nonetheless. They reach the top floor and Sylar leads her into a gym room, where he has placed a table in the middle, several glass bottles on top of it.

“Try hitting one of them, using your ability,” Sylar tells her, but Elle just stares at him. Use her ability with him right there? “You can’t do it?” He stares down at her, a tease in his eyes that challenges her.

“Of course I can,” she answers defiantly, then shrugs, “I just don’t think…”

“You don’t trust me.” He casts down his eyes, something he’s been doing a lot and it discomforts her. It’s almost like he’s disappointed in her, or at least he feels like she should treat him differently because he's changed.

Elle turns towards him and defies him. “You tried to kill me.” 

“But I didn’t." He takes a step closer to her, and Elle can feel his body heat radiating from him. “And I think you know I could have killed you a few times by now.” He stares at her with the most earnest eyes she has ever seen, his tall stature looming over her, and she swallows hard. It’s then that he raises his hand, and brushes back a strand of her hair. “You fascinate me, Elle,” he near whispers, and all words are lost to her. 

“Now,” his voice makes her snap back to reality as he grabs her shoulders and twists her around, facing the table again. “Hit the target.”

Elle sighs, still feeling slightly uncomfortable, and straightens her shoulders. She raises her arm and points a finger, closing one eye to get a better look and takes the shot, clear and perfect. She feels Sylar huff when his chest suddenly pushes up against her back, but she quickly takes a step forward. 

“ I don't have a problem with these small bursts when I'm asked to, or when I'm focused." She raises the palm of her hand and they both watch the electricity dance. “It's when I'm agitated, or angry, that I lose control.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to get you angry."

Elle hears his feet shuffle on the ground, and she can tell he’s moving closer again. She turns around quickly, but her body is swung against the wall, Sylar’s telekinesis keeping her pinned there. “Try to hit me now.” Sylar walks over to her slowly. “Try to kill me.”

Elle’s heartbeat rises considerably, because last time she was pinned down like this he did try to kill her, and she short-circuited the entire building. “Don’t be scared, I won’t hurt you. Just try to kill me. You’ve tried before.”

“That was self-defense, that was different.” Elle struggles in vain against Sylar’s power, and balls of electricity form in her hands. Sylar stares at the blue strands in fascination.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” He stands in front of her now, and grazes her arm with his fingertip, looking for the memory he’s talking about.

“Remember what?” Elle frowns, and can’t help but wonder whether this whole thing had been about her power in the first place. Sylar obviously wants something different from her.

“The second time you came around, after I killed that man. Eighteen months ago.” Sylar steps back, and turns his head away as he speaks, like he’s distancing himself from the memories, “You must have told Noah because he was with you. Thing is that he asked me where we two had met before. Don’t you find that odd? Why would anyone want a tiny memory like that erased?” 

He looks at her then.

“I don’t know what you mean," she says. When she came back? She never went back, she never _looked_ back.

Sylar doesn’t hear her; he just keeps talking to himself. “I was ready to stop, I was ready to turn myself in. Until you two showed up trying to kill me. You made redemption impossible for me." 

He looks at her from over his shoulder then, and Elle can’t help but sympathize with him.

A scream cuts through the building, a woman’s voice that only reads absolute terror. Elle and Sylar both turn towards the racket, and Elle feels the hold on her body being released. They both run towards the noise.

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 


	8. Chapter 8

They’re both running fast, Elle’s naked feet making clapping sounds on the cold tiles, but they both halt abruptly, out of breath and eyes wide, when they see Peter standing in the hallway, one of his nurses on the floor, and he has another one pinned against the wall.

“Peter,” Elle breathes, and Sylar looks at her when he hears her heart skip a beat. He keeps looking at her curiously, Elle’s eyes remaining pinned to Peter, and Sylar realizes that the two of them have history.

“PETER!” Noah comes running from the other side of the hallway, Angela following in his tracks. The female nurse looks around in fear. “Peter, let her go, this isn’t you,” Noah pleads, standing in front of Angela, almost as if he’s protecting her.

“She tried to… inject me with something.” Peter looks at the helpless woman in front of him and his eyes go dark as he stares at her skull. “She tried to kill me.”

“Peter, don’t be ridiculous.” Angela takes a step closer but Noah’s arm prevents her from coming too close. “She only tried to sedate you, like I told her too.”

“WHY mother?” Peter releases his hold on the nurse and she slumps down on the floor, then she’s running towards Sylar and Elle, who make sure she’s alright before directing their attention back to Peter. “Because I’m so dangerous? Or because I tried to kill you?” Peter shouts and his hand shoots up, an invisible hand enclosing around Angela’s throat. “EVERTYHING in my life has been a lie, so don’t… don’t talk down to me.”

“ _Peter_ ,” Noah warns, and both him and Sylar step forward, Noah with a Company issue gun in hand, Sylar ready to strike down his brother. But Peter anticipates their moves and releases his mother instantly, using both hands to pin down Sylar on his one side, and Noah to his other.

“Peter, don’t!” Elle finally intervenes, standing in front of Peter who has both arms outstretched to keep Sylar and Noah in place. She walks closer, careful not to use her powers, her hands outstretched to make sure Peter realizes it. “You have to fight it, Peter.”

“I CAN’T!” Peter shouts and closes his eyes, almost as if he doesn’t want to hear a word Elle’s saying. He looks at Sylar next with the darkest eyes, and it makes Elle so sad to see all that light disappearing from him. “He made me this way.”

“Look at what you’re doing,” she tries the sympathetic approach, something clearly no one has tried yet, because Peter tries to steady his breathing and manages to look at her. “This isn’t you. This is not the guy I met, not the guy I…” she hesitates to speak the words, so decides against it. Sylar notices. “You have to fight it.”

Peter’s eye twitches visibly, and he looks at Sylar. “I’m nothing like him.”

“I didn’t say that.” Elle ventures another step closer, and Peter lets her. “But if you don’t learn how to control this, Peter, then you’re that same man that stood on Kirby Plaza about to explode,” -another step closer and now she’s standing directly in front of him, their similar heights making it easy for her to look into his eyes-, “Then you become the man that willingly stood by Adam’s side while he tried to release the virus. Is that who you want to be Peter?” 

Her blue eyes look deep into his.

“No…” Peter answers.

“Sylar already is what he is. The only option he has left is fight his hunger, but if you want to, Peter? If you really want to, you can control it.” She squeezes Peter’s shoulder, and sees the fight in his eyes subside to something more mellow and recognizable. 

“And then maybe you can save the world.” Elle nods and gives him a small smile, the one she’s used on him before but for entirely different purposes.

Peter takes a deep breath, and releases both men calmly, staying in place as he looks at Elle. Other guards have joined them by now but Angela motions her head to make sure they stay back, when she sees Elle take her son’s hand, and pull him along with her. 

She leads him all the way back to his cell, and Peter goes without complaining.

 

.

 

Sylar walks into her cell a few hours later, but he keeps still, and Elle can’t bring herself to ask what’s wrong, or why he’s there. So she sits on one side of the room, and he stands on the other side, in silence, for long moments. 

“Did you mean it?” he asks after a long time, but Elle waits for more explanation. “Back there, when you said I can’t change what I am. That I’m just a killer,” he adds, and Elle frowns, because she can almost swear she sees tears in his eyes.

“I didn’t say you were just a murderer.” She stays in place, in her little corner. “I said you can’t change who you already are. But maybe Peter can change who he becomes before it’s too late."

“Too late for what?” Sylar doesn’t move either, his back remains turned to her.

“Before he becomes like us.” Elle props up her knees and hugs them, looking at her nails just to be doing something instead of staring at him.

Sylar looks up, and stares at her reflection in the glass. “And what are we exactly?” 

Elle takes a deep breath, because she knows that whatever she answers will apply to her as well. “We are cursed with the knowledge that we’ll have to fight a part of who we are for the rest of our life.”

“Do you love him?” another question follows suddenly, and not even Sylar knows where it comes from, but the way Elle looked at Peter was something he’s always wanted himself.

“I…” Elle’s eyes go big at his question, and she takes long moments to answer, even more to realize what the question entails. “Sociopaths aren’t capable of love."

She leaves the question unanswered.

Sylar looks down, and is silent for about a minute, letting everything sink in. He knows what she means. Elle doesn’t know if she loves Peter, simply because she doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like to begin with. Just like him. “But he trusts you, right?”

“Yes. Why?” Elle stretches her legs out in front of her, feeling like they both just admitted something to themselves that wasn’t too dissimilar. But she doesn’t know why Peter’s trust is so important. 

It’s then that Sylar turns around, and looks at her, almost guiltily. 

Her eyes meet his, and she knows, “My lost memory. You think Peter can help me?”

“I don’t know. The memory is hardly even there anymore. Just a little blip in an endless sea of faded memories.” 

She looks at him, now fascinated herself.

“But I need to know who ordered it. I need to know why.”

That’s when she sees, the tears in his eyes, the same insecurity she felt when Noah told her about her dad’s experiments. She recognizes _herself_ , the void of memories, only he just doesn’t know. 

“What do you want me to do?” she asks, and their eyes meet in a moment of understanding. Again.

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 


	9. Chapter 9

“No,” Peter says, and he looks at Sylar behind the glass before turning to her again. “I won’t do it. Not for him.” 

Elle moves in front of him and stands between Sylar and Peter, making sure she’s the only thing Peter sees. “Then do it for me Peter.” She takes his hand, and he lets her, but still looks at her suspiciously. “You remember what I told you? My life story? That’s because of something my father did to me. He erased my memories because he was experimenting on me. Just like they experimented on your brother."

“But you’re asking me for another memory. One involving Sylar. Why would you want me to do that?” Peter asks, actual caring now airing through. This girl is beyond his understanding.

“Because I am sick and tired of this Company trying to control my life.” Her voice comes harsh because it’s the actual truth. “I’ve had enough of lost memories and people telling me things that I’m supposed to know but don’t. Please Peter.” She pushes and puts her plea right into her eyes. “This is for me. Not him.”

Peter takes a deep breath, casting once final glance at Sylar, and then he nods. Elle smiles broadly and sits down in front of him on the bed. Peter takes her hand, and closes his eyes. Elle looks at him and frowns, wondering what he’s doing to her, but then a sharp pain runs from the back of her neck to her forehead, and she’s forced to close her eyes too.

Sylar has no idea what’s going on when he sees Peter and Elle sitting on the bed, both their eyes closed, Elle clearly in pain. He wants to go inside the room but he knows that Peter won’t have it anymore. Peter wants nothing to do with him now.

And then suddenly Elle lets go of Peter with a scream, and stumbles back on the bed, shock covering both their faces. She’s still breathing difficult when she walks out of Peter’s cell, and can’t bring herself to look at him. 

“Did you find out?” Sylar moves closer and grabs one of her arms, more for support than anything else, a kind gesture.

“It was…” She still doesn’t look at him, just up and down the hallway because this hurts too much. She can’t believe this is happening, that she’ll be the one telling him this. The irony was almost dripping off their entire situation. “Arthur Petrelli. He told me and Noah to kill you.”

Sylar stops breathing for a single second, and lets go of Elle. “My father?” He looks around confused. 

“My own father?” he asks again, disbelief washing over him, and the helplessness of his own situation becomes tangible.

“A father whose hunger you inherited,” a voice sounds from the other side of the corridor, and the tapping of heels on the floor.

“Mom?”

Both Sylar and Elle stare at Angela Petrelli as she comes closer, tears and sorrow in her eyes like a bad memory just got rekindled in her mind. _The day she killed her husband_.

“I really wish you hadn’t done that.” She nods towards Peter’s cell but keeps her distance. 

Sylar approaches his mother. “You knew about this?” 

“I’m the one who had Elle and Noah’s memories erased." 

She says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world, just a routine thing you’d do every day. 

“I never wanted you to find out, not like this."

“Not like this?” Sylar answers viciously, “My own father tried to kill me!” he shouts and then looks back at Elle, who starts sympathizing more than ever. She knows how he feels. “How am I supposed to…”

“You were _never_ supposed to find out Gabriel.” Angela tries to touch her son’s face but he moves away. “I’m so sorry.” She averts her eyes, and Elle suddenly finds herself sympathizing with Angela as well.

“Is that why you put me up for adoption?” Sylar looks at his mother as if he’s seeing her for the very first time. “Because you knew how dangerous I was?”

“No!” Angela exclaims. “That was never my intention, Gabriel. But if I had raised you in my own home, with your father, you would have become just like him.” 

Tears escape her eyes as she thinks about her own actions. _Her baby boy, in the arms of someone else_.

“And how am I not like him now?!” Sylar shouts and grabs Angela by her forearms strongly. “Tell me mother, how am I any different right now?!” He pushes Angela back against the wall.

“Gabriel!” Elle shouts, and it’s only seconds later that she realizes what name she called, but it makes Sylar release his mother almost instantly, suddenly seeing what he is doing. 

“I’m sorry,” Sylar breathes and moves a few steps back, closer to Elle now than to his mother, unable to look at either of them. He needs to control it again, his hunger is crawling right underneath the surface, but he has to control it. He does.

“Put her back in her cell,” Angela breaks the silence, confident that her son has calmed down.

“No,” Sylar answers almost immediately, and looks at his mother sideways. 

Both Angela and Elle stare at him in disbelief, neither of them really finding any words. 

“I won’t do it," Sylar says. "You forget, mother, that by giving me Bridget you opened up Elle’s memories to me,” Sylar explains, “She doesn’t deserve four walls, she’s been through enough. She’s not going back to her cell.”

“Gabriel, you will do as you’re told,” Angela sounds strong as ever. “She still doesn’t control her ability. It’s too dangerous to have her around. Last time she lost control she knocked you out and released a dozen of criminals.” 

Angela stares at her son hard, but he doesn’t give up.

“Then I’ll…” he starts.

“No,” Elle interrupts and stands between mother and son, looking up at Sylar. “She’s right. I let them out. I don’t deserve to be out either.”

Sylar stares down at her for a while, watching the earnestness in her eyes, and he can’t help but think that hers are the only eyes that can really do that. But he accepts her words.

“If you can get her to control her ability, I will let her out,” Angela agrees, “Anything else remains to be seen."

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 


	10. Chapter 10

** (Two weeks later) **

“Angela wants you to what?” 

Elle turns around abruptly, no longer focused on hitting any target or getting angry, just general disbelief settling in. 

“That’s suicide."

She takes a few steps towards him, and they air her annoyance. “You can’t handle Arthur Petrelli. _No-one_ can handle Arthur Petrelli."

Sylar smiles at her concern for his well-being, but then he looks away as he remembers his mother’s words. “Peter never came back after he went to Pinehearst. I have to go and help him,” he says. He doesn’t look at her directly, but is disappointed when she turns away from him as well.

“Because he’s your brother.” She makes it a statement, because she likes the fact that Sylar seems to care so much for Peter. She still thinks it’s weird to see him show actual affection towards a person, but she supposes that’s what he thinks about her as well. They are so very much the same. “Just… don’t forget who he is. You can’t treat him like your father.” 

Elle turns around, and balls her fists.

“What do you mean?” Sylar looks at her confused.

“When you face him...” She takes a deep breath, keeping her fists balled tightly, and he realizes she’s giving herself advice. 

She’s talking about her own father.  _The man he killed_. 

“You have to… you have to forget he’s your father. He’s not.” Elle looks up at him. “He’s the enemy. It’s the only way you’ll be able to stand up to him.” Her eyes fill up with tears but she sniffs them away quickly, still turning her back on him. “And _never_ , under _any_ circumstance, do you touch him.”

Sylar bows his head as he slowly approaches her, ever so carefully placing his hands on her shoulders when he reaches her. 

“I’ll be careful,” he whispers into her hair, and then the room goes silent.

 

.

 

** (A few days later) **

Sylar hasn’t been around for several days, but for some reason Angela had allowed her in the gym, where Elle practises her ability by herself for long hours. It was easier with Sylar there, or maybe it was just more fun. She tells herself that, because admitting to herself that she’s worried about him is not something she’s ready for yet. _Or so she thinks_.

Elle stands in the centre of the room and closes her eyes, her hands by her side, fingers spread out wide. She takes a deep breath, and then there are sparks forming in the palms of her hands. Sylar had told her that there’s more to controlling electricity than she ever thought. Electricity wasn’t invented for destroying things, or killing. If she could concentrate her ability, she could do so much more. Create things.

They had trained for days to work on the subtleties of her power, almost always failing. But she stands there today, and raises her one hand, a light bulb at the ready. She focuses on her ability, feeling currents and electrons flowing through her body; she’s the source, she’s a battery, not the storm. The light bulb lights up brightly in her hand and she smiles at the sight.

“You did it,” a voice sounds from behind her, and as she turns around the bulb pops in her hand. She drops the rest of it by her side, and stares at Sylar, who is standing in the doorway, black jeans, black tank. 

“Just have to work out the details," he says.

“You’re okay.” She tries to hide her smile, but fears that she just failed that miserably. “And Peter?” 

“He... lost his powers.” Sylar casts down his eyes, like it’s somehow his fault that Peter was now powerless. But Elle knows about Arthur Petrelli’s power all too well.

“That’s not your fault.” She doesn’t look at him when she speaks the words, out of embarrassment for wearing her heart on her sleeve right now. “He’s too trusting sometimes. And who can really blame him, right? Arthur is his father.” She stares down at her feet while she walks to the other side of the room, hands at the small of her back. She imagines she would have done the same thing if she’d been in Peter’s shoes.

Sylar follows in her tracks, but keeps his distance. Her caring for her makes him feel better about everything he’s done so far. If anything, helping Elle is the only thing he’s ever done right up until now. But then he’s reminded of her father, and how he killed him, all because of his hunger.

What comes next is something automatic, something she knows will get their mind off things they don’t really want to think about and something she’s been dying to ask him. She can grant him this. “Tell me what it’s like,” her voice sounds soft, and he’s forced to look at her. “Your hunger. Describe it to me." 

She’s only a few feet away from him, standing at a window that looks outside, her eyes airing nothing but curiosity and empathy.

“You saw me. How do you think it felt?” His eyes darken as they move up her body, and halt at the scar on her forehead. His scar. 

Elle keeps looking at him, unable to look away; his eyes are so fascinating. 

“What did it feel like for you?” comes his question, and his eyes don’t leave hers.

“I think you enjoyed it.” She stares at him hard, testing him, trying to detect a glimmer of mischief because she knows Sylar never killed for fun. Sylar casts down his eyes, maybe because he’s disappointed that she doesn’t take it seriously; he turns his back on her, leaning one shoulder against the wall. But then it comes.

“First there was a bitter taste in your mouth, when you saw him.” Elle sees his breathing deepen, and she feels her own heartbeat rising. She moves closer to him, rubbing the fingers on one hand together, electricity crackling between them as she moves even closer. 

He turns his head, seeing her creeping up on him; he still doesn’t move. 

“It’s the adrenaline rushing." Her hand is on his bare arm next, and she leans the side of her face against his skin, blue sparks still sparking from her fingertips.

She looks up into his eyes, making sure she’s not crossing any lines, but in his eyes she only meets with a new hunger, a desire to have _her_ instead of more power. And then her hand is at the small of his back, her fingers creeping underneath his shirt, running her hand up his spine. 

“It felt like... static electricity crawling up your spine,” her words mimic her actions and Sylar is forced to straighten himself out when lines of electricity run up his back. “Haunting you, drawing you closer.”

Sylar slowly turns around when Elle is silent for a few seconds, her hand shifting from his back to his chest, and he looks into her eyes again; such beauty, such stillness. Such devious delicious things. His heart is hammering in his chest, like he can hear hers raving for freedom. 

“And then you give in,” her voice sounds husky now, heavy with passion and desire. He doesn’t give her another chance to continue talking; he pulls her closer fast, her body flush against his as she raises herself on tiptoe, and their lips connect in a final gasp for breath.

A necessity takes hold of both of them, a desire to have each other completely, wholly. His tongue pushes past her teeth as he fists her hair, and her hands settle down in his hair, messing it up. It’s not something either of them had seen coming, just a little fantasy of _what could have been_ if things had been different. But here they are, together, longing for an even deeper connection, beyond anything either have ever felt.

 

.

 

** (Later that night) **

Angela Petrelli sits at home, for the first time in weeks, finally finding the time to go home for a change, and it soothes her, even though the house is completely empty. Her mind is troubled by so many things; her husband still being alive, Nathan’s final words to her spooking through her head, and Gabriel. 

She falls asleep on the living room couch.

_ That hallway, that same hallway. She can never seem to escape it. She’s at the Company and everywhere there are people fighting, specials fighting specials.  _

_ Pinehearst versus the Company.  _

_ She moves through the army of people with ease, a dream walker, a ghost. _

_ Her heartbeat rises when she sees Nathan lying dead on the ground. A few feet further she finds Tracy, her head a bloody mess from a blow she took, an arm outstretched towards Nathan. Peter rushes out of another room and Angela stares at him with big frightful eyes.  _

_ Her sons. Why is it always her sons? _

_ Then another scream, and she recognizes it all too well.  _

Elle _._

_Angela rushes towards the sound, but her heart stops beating the moment she moves into the other room._

_Another death, another son._

_Gabriel, headless on the floor, Knox at the other side of the room, and Elle, kneeling down beside Gabriel, weeping over his dead body._

 

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Weeks go by where Sylar and Elle have to pretend, sneak around like two teenagers whose parents had told them they couldn’t see each other. It felt degrading, to be reduced to this kind of interacting and sometimes be separated for days. But it’s all they had and all they could do, and so they enjoyed every minute they had together, spending it like it was their last. They worked on controlling Elle’s ability and stole moments for themselves. 

Until Sylar gets enough of all the sneaking around.

“She controls her ability now.” Sylar leans his arms down on Angela’s desk, and he looks at his mother, annoyance penetrating through every of his cells. The Petrelli family is one damn stubborn one.

“That may very well be but it’s too dangerous to have her out.” Angela doesn’t even bother looking up at her son; she worries that if she does he’ll be able to read the fear in her eyes. The fear of once again knowing the pain of losing a son. Or sons.

“Why?” he sighs.

“You killed her father, Gabriel.” Angela gets up from behind her desk and walks over to the tall bookcase on the wall. 

It stings to hear the words come out of his mother’s mouth; the woman who was supposed to accept him for who or what he was. 

“I don’t see her easily forgetting that," Angela says. "How do you know this isn’t all some act to get her revenge?”

“It’s not." He stands up and turns his back on his mother. “I know her,” he says but he knows that might not be entirely true. They were alike but what about her father? Was that all over and done with? Easily forgotten when he had accused her of much more devious things?

“You don’t know anything about her, Gabriel, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Angela turns around after having taken deep breaths; now she was calm itself again. “She tried to kill you before, and she might well try again.”

“I can’t die!” he shouts out of frustration, turning around again violently.

“You listen to me.” Angela closes the distance between them and points a finger at him, just like a mother would. “If you want to continue working for this Company rather than spend your days in a four by four cell, I suggest you put Elle out of your head. That girl is nothing but trouble."

It’s silent for a few seconds, only the sound of shallow breaths. “You’d do that?” Sylar squints, “To your own son?”

Angela doesn’t answer him in terms of family loyalty, but instead airs some of her concerns. “I won’t have the two of you out and about together. That is my decision and you will respect it.” 

Sylar turns away from her again as she speaks the words. Angela grabs him by the arm and wills him to turn around. “There are bigger things at work here than you and Elle Bishop!” Her voice is low and heavy, sorrow almost airing through.

“What is it?” Sylar grabs her gently by her forearms and looks at his mother sympathetically. There had to be something seriously wrong for her to be acting like this.

“It’s your father.” Angela looks down to avoid her son’s eyes, still hiding her fear. “He’s building an army, and I don’t know how long it will take him to be ready,” she says and then finally looks up, tears in her eyes that she doesn’t even know are real. “When the time comes I need to know you’ll be here for us, Gabriel. That you’ll fight."

Sylar nods slowly, but doesn’t verbalize anything as he starts walking away. “Elle can fight too,” he says; he needs his mother to know that he’s dead serious about it. “She’s worked for this Company her entire life, and now that she controls her ability she’s ten times more powerful.”

There’s not another word exchanged between mother and son, just silent agreement to drop the issue for the time being. Once Sylar has left the room Angela releases the breath she had been holding, and closes her eyes. She thinks about her son, and the doubts that she knows are spooking through his head. The only consolation she has is that Gabriel came back to her after saving Peter. She has to trust that he’ll make the right choice about Elle, and then maybe one day he’ll realize that what she’s doing is all for his own good. In time he will come to see.

 

.

 

“You’re having doubts about your mother.” Elle sits next to him on the ground, their knees propped up. “Why?” 

“Something my father told me.” He casts down his eyes and looks away from her. “He told me my mother tried to drown me when I was just a baby.”

Elle grabs his arm. “You can’t believe that,”

Sylar huffs, and looks at her for just a second. “That’s what Peter told me too.”

“Then listen to him.” She squeezes his shoulder and then pokes his arm, “I know you might not want to hear this, but Peter knows his father. Arthur Petrelli only manipulates, that’s what he does. And yes, your mother learned some tricks for him, but it’s her you should trust.”

Sylar shrugs her off and stands up. “How can you be so sure about that?” 

“I don’t know anything for sure.” Elle looks up at him, and then gets up herself, standing behind him. “I just know that whatever scares the hell out of Angela Petrelli is something worth fearing."

“She wants me to fight,” he says it softly so that maybe it doesn’t need to be true, and then he slowly turns his body to her as well. “When the time comes.” 

His hands land on her shoulders, sliding down to caress her skin. Elle shivers involuntarily.

“I don’t want you to go,” she also says it softly, because she’s almost sure that he’ll go, and Angela won’t let her tag along. Not another word is spoken between them, now only the sound of skin brushing skin. Softly at first, and then there’s an electric discharge crawling over skin that heals on its own anyway. And no pain.

They are two bodies in one room, an open space, desire and passion hanging in invisible folds between them. The air is thick with ozone when their lips part with a gasp, and the sound of doors opening reach both their  ears. Both of them take deep breaths as they stare into each other’s eyes, suppressing the cravings that are crawling impatiently beneath the surface.

“Go,” the sound of her voice is a breath on his cheek, but then he’s walking, the soft brush of her hand against his chest still lingering like a fingerprint on glass. Then the sound of automatic doors closing, and they both know it will be days before they can steal another moment.

Tears form in her eyes as she hears his footsteps in the hallway, removed from her once again, but she stays strong, for herself and for him. 

It’s also the reason why she doesn’t tell him she’s pregnant.

 

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 


	12. Chapter 12

_ There’s death, there’s always pain and suffering no matter what the scenario. She moves through an abandoned warehouse, and she hears voices in the distance. A gunshot resounds through the whole place, loud and surprising and then someone shouts. It’s Elle. Again. _

_ She’s running now, quickly, breaths coming ragged even though she knows it’s only a dream. Another future scenario that will end up giving her heartache. The room is practically empty. Elle struggles free from her handcuffs by using her ability, and then she turns to the dead body lying on the floor behind her. It’s Noah, and there’s blood pooling all around him. _

_ “Gabriel?” Elle’s voice is small, and when Angela turns around, she sees her son. He’s alive. Thank God. But something’s wrong, Gabriel is sitting up against the wall, staring down at his own hands, bloody. _

_ “I killed… I killed him,” he whispers, and he doesn’t even look up when Elle kneels down beside him. “He was right. I’m nothing but a killer,” he keeps staring at his hands, tears in his eyes ready to escape. When Elle places a hand on his shoulder, Gabriel pushes her away. “What the hell kind of a father would I be? Stay away from me!” _

Angela startles up in her chair and clutches her hands around her desk, breathing rapidly. A child, it can’t be. Yet another weakness, another thing that can be used against her son and this Company; she can’t have it.

 

.

 

It’s been six months now since Sylar found out that Angela is his mother and that he’s really a Petrelli. Six months since he started working with Noah, six months of Noah waiting for the right time, the moment to strike again.

_ “Am I being replaced?”  the Haitian had asked him after they had brought Flint back in. _

_ “Only for a while,” Noah answered, “Just until I find his weakness,” he stared at the man that hurt his little girl, “and then I’m gonna kill him.” _

And then Angela Petrelli offers him her son on a silver platter.

“He’s your son,” Noah says strongly and he looks at Angela incredulously. The things this woman is capable of have never been able to surprise him, up until now.

“He’s lost his way,” Angela answers calmly, looking out the window of her office, hands folded together in front of her.

“You want me to kill your son,” Noah repeats himself, because six months ago he stood in this very same office, with Angela telling him that Sylar was his partner, and that she would put him into play no matter what.

“I want you to show him that he’s weak,” she raises an eyebrow, breathing slowly as if she’s holding something back. Maybe it’s some kind of hesitation seeping through, or just fear the Noah won’t listen to anything she has to say.

“With what purpose exactly?” Noah is careful to take the assignment. Once upon a time Elle was his partner, and he pretty much watched her grow up. She’s just a girl that had been forced into situations she never asked for. Until now…

“He needs to be strong for what’s to come,” she tells herself again, to convince herself that she’s doing the right thing, for the world, but mostly for her son. _Sons_. “He won’t be if that girl is around.”

“So you want me to kill Elle?” he takes a step closer to her, to make sure Angela knows that this doesn’t sit well with him at all. He has nothing against Elle, and kill her is something he has never considered. She reminded him too much of his Claire.

His question remains unanswered as Angela looks away again and walks back behind her desk, “You have your orders Noah,” she takes a deep breath and looks up at him again. “I expect you to step up for the good of this Company. Possibly even for the world.”

“You’re honestly going to tell me that Elle stands between Sylar and him saving the world?”

“There’s a bigger picture here Noah,” Angele sits down and grabs a nearby file to read through, “I don’t expect you to understand. With Gabriel we stand a fighting chance against what’s to come,” she’s only half convinced of her own words. She knows that there will be losses no matter what.

“And without him?” Noah stares down at the woman in front of him; now more a stranger than ever. But again Angela doesn’t answer his question. “This isn’t about saving the world,” he realizes when his question is left alone, “You’re losing him to Elle and you’re too proud to admit it,” he concludes, because he knows how it feels himself. Losing Claire even though everything he’s done was for her.

“Does that mean I have to find someone else?” Angela doesn’t react in the slightest to his accusation.

“No, I’ll do it,” Noah answers, “But I can’t guarantee everyone will walk away unscathed.”

“You’ll take the Haitian with you,” Angela calls after him as Noah walks away. He just looks back one time and nods his head. Angela sits back in her seat and releases the breath she had been holding unconsciously. She knows she just put something in motion she doesn’t even know the result off so she fears it nonetheless.

.

 

“Noah?” Elle blinks and then frowns, when she notices the gun pointed straight at her. “What are you doing?” she doesn’t want to distrust Noah, not after all they’ve been through, but what does he think he’s doing? Just walking into her cell like this and threatening her life.

“I’m sorry, Elle,” Noah’s face doesn’t falter, and then the Haitian appears behind him. Elle’s face is one big question when the Haitian pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his pants pockets, and binds her hands behind her. “I really wish I didn’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” Elle looks around helplessly, but then the Haitian gags her so she can’t say another word. It’s only then that she starts struggling, maybe realizing what’s going on, maybe fear only now seeping in.

“Let’s see what that boyfriend of yours does next,” Noah puts his gun back in its holster, and then Elle’s world goes black as the Haitian blindfolds her as well.

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 


	13. Chapter 13

Sylar doesn’t know how to feel; whether he should be furious at Noah or concerned for Elle, or how to combine those feelings properly. It’s conflict and pain in his mind, and something he refuses to handle alone. So he goes to the one person that might be willing to help him, because he knows how he feels. “Peter,” he stares straight as his brother when the door to his apartment opens. “I need your help.”

Peter is surprised to see Sylar on his doorstep, but there’s something in the taller man’s eyes, an urgency and hurt he recognizes. It’s concern for someone he loves, like he feels for Nathan and Claire. “It’s Noah,” Sylar continues, “He took Elle,” he pushes past Peter in the doorway, and looks around the apartment nervously, feeling vulnerable just standing there with a plea in his heart.

“He what?” Peter frowns and takes firm steps closer to Sylar, “Why?”

“I saw it on the security cameras,” Sylar doesn’t directly answer his brother’s question because he doesn’t know the answer himself. He can guess, but he’s not ready to face that yet. “He wanted me to see,” he thinks about his options, but whatever happens he’ll need Peter there, “I need you to help me find her,” he looks up again then.

Before Peter can answer, Sylar notices the blankets on the sofa, where Peter had slept the night before. The door to the bedroom opens then, and Claire steps out, her eyes dark and angry. “What is he doing here?” she asks between clenched teeth.

“I came to ask Peter for help,” Sylar faces away from her, the accusations and hurt in her eyes reminding him of things he tries to forget and control at the same time, “But I’ll need your help too,” he adds, but remains in place.

“Why would you need my help?” her looks remains hard and cold, and she crosses her arms over her chest, acting uninterested, “Peter might…”

“Your dad took Elle somewhere,” Sylar turns around abruptly and looks at her strongly, but almost instantly regrets the reaction. He averts his eyes again, “And I think he might kill her if it means getting to me,” he takes a deep breath then, to calm himself down.

“What?” Claire shakes her head and quickly exchanges a look with Peter before looking at Sylar again. It hurts her to just consider it, but she can’t see why her dad is doing it. “Why would he do that?” she looks at Peter again when her question is left unanswered, but Peter stays silent as well. “Does she… mean something to you?” Claire asks carefully.

Sylar looks up slowly, his eyes shining and a hesitation at the back of his throat, “I… yes,” his eyes meet with Claire’s when he speaks the words in a moment of absolute sincerity. Claire is left speechless for a few seconds, partly shocked by Sylar’s earnestness, but then she’s reminded of the monster he really is.

“What do you need me for?” she asks, challenging him, forcing him to show his true colours. “With all your powers you can’t take care of…”

“I don’t want to take care of anyone,” he menacingly takes a step closer, but stops when he sees Peter moving as well, “I’m not that man anymore,” he looks away again, realizing that he will never have Claire’s trust or understanding, “I need you to talk to your father, make him see reason. He won’t listen to me.”

“I wonder why,” Claire huffs and looks away uninterested.

“I’ll come with you,” Peter says after long moments, contemplating what to do. This isn’t about helping Sylar at all. He’ll do this for Elle and Noah, not for Sylar. But he’ll go nonetheless.

“Peter no,” Claire uncrosses her arms and walks over to her uncle, “You’re not seriously going to help this… monster,” she spits out the words and looks at Sylar when she speaks them, who looks away from her again.

“He saved my life,” Peter turns to his niece and places his hands on her shoulders. “He helped me get my powers back. It’s the least I can do,” he glances over at Sylar slowly, “And he’s my brother,” Peter adds, voice low, and Sylar looks up at him suddenly and surprised.

Claire stares at Sylar sideways, lips firmly pressed together, until. “I’m going with you.”

 

.

 

They make their way back to the Company, to talk to Angela before making any other move. But when the three of them get there, Noah is already waiting for them in the hallway, like it was one of the most normal days in the world. “Noah,” Sylar growls, and flicks his hand, sending Noah’s body crashing against the wall. His blood is boiling as he walks closer; he doesn’t even hear Claire and Peter’s objections.

“You really don’t want to be doing that,” Noah smirks smugly, and tauntingly stares at Sylar, even after he feels an invisible hand wrapping around his throat. Then Peter’s hand is on Sylar’s shoulder suddenly, but he shrugs it off.

“Where is she?” Sylar asks, breathing deeply, but trying to keep strong. Noah stays silent, a power play with eyes going on between both men.

“Dad, tell him where she is,” Claire takes a few steps closer and looks at her father urgently, willing him to do Sylar’s bidding. She can’t lose her father.

“I’m sorry, Claire, I can’t do that,” Noah answers, even though it hurts him to choke out the words.

“Dad, consider what you’re doing,” Claire pleas, and remembers how her father had tried to convince Stephen Canfield to kill Sylar. She knows that his hatred for Sylar is great, and in any other situation she might join him; but this is Elle they’re talking about. “This isn’t you. This is wrong.”

“All I want is _him,_ Claire,” he nods towards  Sylar, who is only seconds away of snapping Noah’s neck. But that means not finding Elle. “This has nothing to do with Elle.”

“What did you do to her?” Sylar asks, eyes narrowing and his fingertips itching; his hunger spreading through his veins.

“I haven’t done anything to her,” Noah answers calmly, and everyone is surprised to see him fearless like this, “And I don’t plan to. I only took her so that you’d go without a fuss,” he stares at Sylar from behind his horn-rimmed glasses, and suddenly feels the telekinetic hold on his body faltering.

“What do you want?” Sylar drops his arm by his side, taking a step closer to Noah.

“I want you dead,” Noah readjusts his jacket before he stares at Sylar again, “I want you to pay for everything you’ve ever done. You’re a murderer Sylar, and you deserve nothing less.”

“You made me into this!” Sylar shouts and pushes Noah back against the wall again, his arm across Noah’s chest, “You forced me to run and become this monster that gave into his hunger. It was your fault, and it was Elle’s fault. But at least she understands.”

“Because she’s just like you,” Noah adds calmly, still not alarmed by anything.

Sylar takes a step back in confusion, suddenly alarmed that Noah has known about him and Elle for quite some time. And if Noah knew, who else did? He looks away from Noah then, “Where is she?” he implores the other man, his voice suddenly weaker.

“That’s not something you should concern yourself with,” Noah straightens his shoulders, and grabs his Company issue gun, pointing it at Sylar’s head. Sylar turns around slowly, “All you have to do is hold still, and I promise that Elle will be returned safely,” Noah doesn’t even blink, “A bullet to the head should do the trick,” he keeps pointing the gun.

“Dad,” Claire manages to choke out, but her voice is not strong enough to make it a real objection. Her and Peter just stand and look back and forth between Noah and Sylar.

Sylar remains still and quiet, every cell in his body screaming murder and villainous things. He doesn’t hear Peter move, or Claire, and he can’t really blame him. But then Elle comes to mind, pregnant with his baby. She hadn’t told him, but he knew.

“Do it,” Sylar whispers, tears in his eyes but he doesn’t allow himself to be overcome, and stares down the barrel of the gun. “But promise me you’ll take care of her,” he looks at Noah firmly one last time, “And my child.”

“Your _child_?” Noah hesitates as he places a finger on the trigger, looking at his daughter and Peter quickly to see if they know what Sylar’s talking about. But their faces read the same confusion he is feeling.

“Elle’s baby,” Sylar casts down his eyes, and for the first time since he found out he allows himself to think about it. He’s going to be a father. Part of him is happy, a bigger part of him is terrified. How does he deserve such a thing after everything he’s done? “My child,” he whispers again.

“Wait, what?” Peter shakes his head and glances over at Claire, who looks up at him with a frown. “Elle’s pregnant?”

“Yes,” Sylar breaths, and only then allows himself to look at Noah again.

Noah tightens his grip around his gun and cocks his head nervously. Elle’s pregnant; that changes a whole lot of things the biggest part of him really wants to ignore. He knows what it’ll be like; the constant fear, the constant worrying. He keeps staring at Sylar hard, seeing the monster clearly but the image starts to fade. Maybe, if he looks hard enough, he can see a man trying to save himself, trying to redeem himself.

At long last Noah takes a deep breath, and drops his arm by his side. “You need to go talk to your mother,” he sighs.

 

.

 

His mother. His _own_ mother. Sylar is seething with anger as he makes his way through the hallways of the building that has become too familiar to him. Blood is rushing to his head, his heart beating in his eardrums. He hears Peter behind him, following in his tracks; he’s probably worried he will do something stupid.

He doesn’t slow down when he approaches Angela’s office, his strides come firm and confident, underlain with a desire to finally know the truth, to face his mother head on, no more lies or manipulation. He’s done with all of that. The door flies off its hinges when he’s close, using his ability to get it out of his way.

“Gabriel,” Angela Petrelli breaths, eyes wide and she’s clearly scared when she sees her sons enter her office.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Sylar speaks between clenched teeth, his eyes pools of darkness, never relenting as he lays them on his mother. There’s no room for any mistake, all three people now in the room know exactly what he is talking about.

Angela takes a deep breath as she gets up from her chair, “It was for your own good Gabriel,” she says calmly, staying in place when Sylar menacingly takes a step closer to her, Peter grabbing his arm to hold him back.

“Be careful what you say next, mother,” Sylar spits out the words, his breathing deepening strongly. He already has to hold himself back. “You ordered Noah to kill Elle,” he says, and watches his mother carefully, studying her reaction. Peter’s hand is still on his arm.

“I never would have let it get that far,” Angela shakes her head and looks at Peter. She’s surprised to see both her boys, together, facing her as brothers. “The Haitian had his orders,” her voice is one monotone line, as if the words are perfectly chosen or studied beforehand; it only makes Sylar angrier.

“Then WHY?” he shouts as he breaks free from Peter’s hold, taking big steps towards his mother, closing the gap between them. Angela is clearly spooked, but manages to stay standing in place, “How could you?” Sylar looks down into her eyes.

“To show you how dangerous your relationship with that girl is,” Angela carefully places a hand on her son’s chest, feeling his heart beating like crazy, “You’re weak when she’s around Gabriel and you know it,” she starts picking off imaginary dust from his shirt.

“She’s having my child,” Sylar straightens his shoulders and looks away, feeling how his mother is trying to dig her way into his heart again. But he won’t have it. He grabs his mother by the forearms and holds her at arm’s length. “Did you know that too?” he looks her in the eyes.

Angela doesn’t answer his question with words; the moment Sylar speaks the words she averts her eyes and that tells him enough. There’s a sudden rush of adrenaline that rushes up his spine and an intake of breath, “You…” he can’t find anything to say anymore; he just grabs her tighter and pushes her back against the bookcase behind her; no need for his powers.

“Gabriel!” Peter shouts and grabs him by the shoulder, pulling him off their mother before any real damage can be done, “Don’t,” he tries to calm his brother down. “It’s not worth losing everything you’ve gained,” he looks at Sylar, or Gabriel, he’s not sure anymore.

Sylar stumbles back to the other side of the room, putting as much distance as possible between him and his mother. He knows that he really wants to kill her, it would be easier to give into his anger than fight it like this, but he tries. For Elle. For his family. When his back hits the opposite wall, he slumps down on the floor. “How long have you known mother?” he’s still breathing strongly as he leans his head back against the wooden paneling. “Is that why you ordered Noah to kill her? To kill our baby?”

“I’m not saying she shouldn’t have the baby,” Angela has already caught her breath again, and stands just as strong and confident as before. “But you need to distance yourself from her. Your enemies will use her and your son against you.”

“My son?” Sylar’s head snaps back up, and he stares at his mother, trying to detect the slightest hint of a lie. But there is none, “A son?” he asks and then looks away again. _A son_. Again Angela doesn’t answer, because she knows her son sees the answer in her eyes. “What else did you see mother? What was it that warranted this?”

“I saw you dead, with that girl by your side,” Angela doesn’t beat around the bush; this time she gives him the God’s honest truth. She needs Gabriel to see why she did it, even if maybe no one else understood, “She will be the end of you Gabriel.”

Sylar stays silent for long moments, staring at his mother, still angry at her for what she did. And now more disappointed that she didn’t just tell him. He realizes that’s what it has always been like. Manipulation. Plotting and scheming because of what she saw in her dreams. No different from his father. “ Elle was the one that told me to trust you,” he says at long last, “She’s the only reason I’m…”

“You’re what?” Angela jumps in, and Sylar’s eyes don’t leave her for a split second. “Fighting your hunger? That has nothing to do with Elle, Gabriel, that’s all you. You’re stronger than her.”

“NO!” he jumps up from the ground, keeping his distance from his mother. There’s a gap there now no amount of trust can bridge, “No more. No more empty words and promises you end up breaking. I am strong, but she makes me a better man,” Angela is silenced at once when she sees the determination in her son’s eyes. The same determination all the Petrelli men seem to have inherited.

“Gabriel,” Elle’s voice sounds from the other side of the room suddenly, and Sylar turns to her, his eyes mellowing. She’s standing in the doorway with Noah and Claire behind her, and when she sees him she walks over to him.

“Are you okay?” Sylar asks the moment Elle falls into his arms, and he takes a relieved breath when he finally has her close to him again. He kisses her hair and then just stares down into her bright blue eyes as she nods yes.

Angela looks at the whole ordeal with sorrow in her heart, seeing one of her sons slip away from her again. She knows Gabriel loves Elle, in his own different way, and Elle probably loves him too, but it still hurts her. “Gabriel think of your future, and the role you have yet to play,” she insists, one hopeless attempt to make her son realize, anything, “You are destined for greater things.”

“No mother, I’m done with all of it,” he answers, still looking at Elle when he says it, his hands on her cheeks and Elle smiling up at him. “I’m taking Elle and my son away from here.”

 

 

** \- tbc - **

 


	14. Chapter 14

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Noah says, and Elle turns around curiously when she hears the voice behind her. She smiles, secretly liking Noah’s concern for her wellbeing; it feels like having a father again.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Elle quirks her mouth, and takes a deep breath when she claps her hands together. Gabriel appears behind Noah then, carrying a bag with few belongings, and her smile broadens. “But I don’t think I care." 

She throws her arms around Noah’s neck, hugging him tightly before trotting off to the car waiting for them.

“If you hurt her.” Noah turns to Gabriel, who stands and stares after Elle. “I will hunt you down.” 

Gabriel turns his head slowly, and both men stare at each other hard. 

“It’s not like you really love her,” Noah says; there’s a silent agreement on Gabriel’s part.

Gabriel knows Noah is right; he doesn’t love Elle in any conventional way, simply because the term has always past both of them by. They don’t know what real love is, but they find their own definition, and no matter what, their son will get all of the love they can muster and more. They will give him everything they never had; a stable home, loving parents that love each other, and most importantly, parents that won’t ever judge him for his capacities.

 

.

 

“Do you love him?” Claire asks her not long after they leave. They find themselves a cozy apartment, that they end up having decorated by professionals, because Gabriel doesn’t have any sense of it, and neither does Elle.

Claire only visits Elle the one time, anything else would have been asking too much from her after everything Sylar had put her through. She can’t even get used to the idea of calling him Gabriel, let alone accept that he’s really her uncle.

Elle takes a deep breath and thinks over the question. Gabriel had asked her the same question about Peter a long time ago, and she’s not sure if she can even now answer the question. 

“I do,” she answers absentmindedly. “And he loves me. In his own special way.”

 

.

 

“I look fat.” 

Elle looks at herself in the mirror and puts her hands on her belly, grown big after six months, and she tips her head before she turns around and waits for Gabriel to stay something. It’s six in the morning, but Elle is already up. She’s always up early these days.

Gabriel turns around in their king-size bed (Elle had insisted on it when they got their own apartment) and sees Elle standing there, watching him urgently. 

“No, you don’t." He props his head up on his hand and stretches out his other hand towards her.

Elle pouts and glances back at the mirror, before sitting down on the bed, her back turned to him. Gabriel smiles to himself and shuffles over to where Elle is sitting on the bed, and sits up behind her. He looks at her in the mirror, their reflections staring back at them, but Elle turns her head stubbornly. Gabriel sighs but doesn’t give up; he flicks his finger and the mirror turns away. 

“I think you look beautiful." He kisses her shoulder.

Elle turns around and faces him, smiling as she bites down on her bottom lip. 

“I wanna name him Noah."

She looks at Gabriel when she feels his hand on her belly, and her hand moves to his chest, her eyes going wider. Gabriel casts down his eyes and hesitates to ask her why. He knows that her answer will break the mood, will remind them both of who they are and where they came from. But that is their curse now, their past haunting them. 

“To remind us of who we are,” she says and her hand cups his cheek, forcing him to look up again. “And to remind us how lucky we are.”

 

.

 

** (3 months later) **

A cry is heard throughout the entire hospital, _Elle’s_ , but Gabriel is right there by her side holding her hand tightly, whispering words of consolation and courage. A baby boy is born at 12 pm, Noah Bishop, because for all intents and purposes it’s safer for their son to inherit the Bishop name rather than the Gray or Petrelli name.

They don’t tell anyone where they were going to have the baby, safe for Peter, who will be known as uncle Peter from now on. 

“Hey, baby,” Elle whispers to her son when the nurse puts him in her arms, all cleaned up and frail. She puts out a finger and her baby boy grabs it tightly, and it’s right there that Elle knows that the life she once had was nothing compared to the life coming. A future Gabriel made possible for her.

“Baby Noah,” she whispers again, and when she looks up at Gabriel, she only just catches him lift his glasses to wipe away a tear. Her eyes are big, and she’s between crying and giggling out loud. 

In that moment Gabriel falls in love with Elle completely, drowning in her big blue eyes that he hopes their son will inherit.

 

.

 

“They don’t want you there, mom,” Peter tells Angela when she asks him about her grandson. There are tears in her eyes and she pleads with him through them, but Peter knows that neither Elle or Gabriel would ever forgive him. “You only have yourself to blame.”

“I understand.” Angela is quick to accept Peter’s words, because frankly she hadn’t expected anything less. For someone who can see the future Angela Petrelli had never had much hope in her life, but this had been a little one she had allowed herself to have. But it wasn’t meant to be. She’ll have to do with her dreams.

“Don’t worry about Gabriel, mom,” Peter says, after a long silence that tells him more about his mother than he has ever been able to learn from any other conversation. “I’ll take care of him. All of them.” 

He stands behind his mother and places a hand on her shoulder, Angela covering his hand with her own. 

“I promise,” his whispers, and kisses her hair.

 

.

 

Their reflections will never show them as they truly are, people will never see them completely. But that is true of everything in the world. Mirrors, eyes, pictures, they only ever display one side of a complicated web. The way they are perceived by the outside world is just how they need it; a perfect example of a young couple that loves their son dearly.

There’s always a hidden side, something broken inside of them, a thing they feel piercing their hearts every time they look at their son. It’s love, and pain, and even a little fear that they have been too lucky in this life for it to go on like this. But they stay strong, and fight it, for Noah, for their family. 

For the one thing in this life they have ever done right.

 

 

** \- FIN - **

 


End file.
